


anchor

by leiascully



Series: I Like You Under My Skin [5]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Intercrural Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-23
Updated: 2012-05-23
Packaged: 2017-11-05 20:50:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the first time in his career, Phil Coulson takes a long lunch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	anchor

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: AUish for the movie, avoiding SPOILERY events  
> A/N: Phil believes strongly in reciprocity. And also in talking during sex.  
> Disclaimer: The Avengers and all related characters are property of Marvel Studios and Joss Whedon. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

Clint unlocks the door of his suite or whatever it technically is - it's not really an apartment, because this isn't really an apartment building. He's sort of half-lived in it since the whole Avengers thing started. It's funny: he can fall sleep anywhere, but he doesn't like to wake up in a room alone, or at least not in a whole set of rooms. It's better in the lounge when people are walking through at all hours and he can put the television on for the noise. The first week he slept on Natasha's couch, but then she threatened him on pain of ass-kicking to go sleep in his own damn bed, because what if she brought someone home, or what if she just wanted to walk around naked, and no, she didn't give a damn that he wouldn't give a damn, it was time to get out. 

She'd said it in a nice way, though.

Still, the place doesn't really feel like his. He opens the door and shows Phil in and it's not like he's home, it's more like he's talked Phil into an afternoon at a hotel. A really nice hotel, but still, not someplace he's used to walking in and kicking back.

"It's very clean," Phil says.

"Surprised?" Clint asks. "You should know better."

"By which I mean it doesn't have any of your stuff in it," Phil says, turning around. "I know you have possessions, but nothing in this place even has your fingerprints on it. This place looks like a model unit. Are you sure you live here? Does anybody live here?"

"Yes and no," Clint says. "I just don't spend a lot of time here." He rubs a hand over the back of his neck. It's complicated."  
Phil goes into the kitchen and opens the cupboard. "You don't even like the beefy macaroni. You like the spaghetti and meatballs. Who stocked this pantry?"

Clint closes the cupboard. "I don't really want to talk about it."

Phil puts his hand on Clint's shoulder and then pulls Clint into his arms. "I'm sorry if it's a sore subject."

"Not really what we came here for," Clint mumbles. "Can't we have the honeymoon a little longer, before you find out how fucked up I am?"

"Barton," Phil says gently. "It's not as if we met in a bar. I know you - we've worked together a long time now. I've seen your records. I've seen you work. I know there's more to you than meets the eye. There's more to all of us. You think I'll cut and run because you have trouble sleeping? I'm pretty sure I can help you with that."

"Your solution better not be warm milk," Clint jokes, leaning against Phil. 

"You've seen my solution already," Phil murmurs. "You didn't have any trouble last night, did you?"

"No," Clint admits. 

"Then don't worry about it," Phil tells him. "You're not the only one who has bad dreams, Clint. And people who aren't fucked up don't become superheroes. They buy houses with white picket fences and start families and work 9 to 5 jobs and worry about their mortages and have dinner with their in-laws and fall asleep at the movies during date night." Clint almost thinks Phil sounds a little wistful, but a little dismissive too. 

"Fuck," Clint says, pushing his face into Phil's shoulder.

"I thought that's why we were here," Phil teases him. He puts two fingers under Clint's chin and tips Clint's face up for a lingering kiss. "I choose you, Clint Barton. Nightmares and all. This isn't a whim or an accident or something I'm going into with my eyes closed. And it's not just because you're good in bed."

Clint has to chuckle at that one.

"After that little show in my office, though," Phil continues, "I think I'll have to choose to take all your clothes off and offer you something in the way of payback."

"Going to put me in a compromising position?" Clint asks.

"Exactly," Phil tells him. His knee nudges between Clint's. "Completely at my mercy. Think you can deal with that?"

"Try me," Clint tells him. "You know, boss, you got a lot more than you bargained for with that drink."

Phil smiles. "I got exactly what I wanted." He pushes Clint back against the counter and kisses him roughly. Clint kisses him back, relief and embarassment flooding him. He can't believe that he gave up that kind of information the first time they walked into this stupid place, and he can't believe that Phil not only handled it, but doesn't show any signs of not being able to handle it in the future. Experience pays off again.

"Stay with me," Phil growls, and Clint comes back abruptly out of his head and into his body. Another rookie mistake. But there's not much chance of him slipping away again, not with Phil undoing Clint's pants in an extremely determined way. Phil whisks a couple of kitchen towels off the rack where they're neatly hung - another sure sign Clint doesn't live here - and drops them on the floor, kneeling on them carefully.

"I want you," he says, looking up Clint's body.

"You've got me," Clint assures him.

"Good," Phil says, and tugs down Clint's underwear. Clint's still standing at attention from the delicious wrongness of blowing Phil in Phil's office under the watchful eyes of the security cameras, and Phil makes a pleased little noise as he wraps his fist around Clint's cock. Clint is very, very glad that he has something to hold onto, because Phil wastes no time in taking Clint into his mouth. His hot wet incredible mouth, and Clint is wondering whether it's possible to have a blowjob superpower, because his knees are buckling and his entire body is melting. Phil groans and licks at the head of Clint's cock and Clint could almost come just from that. He gasps for breath. The countertop bites into his palms and the knobs of the cabinets are digging into the backs of his thighs but he doesn't give a damn. 

"Oh, fuck," he says incoherently.

"Mmm," Phil agrees. His eyes are closed and his expression is dreamy and it's incredibly fucking hot. Clint lets his head roll back on his shoulders. Phil is, quite possibly, the best thing that's ever happened to him, and the fact that Phil keeps happening to him is enough to blow his mind, even without Phil's tongue working to do just that. Clint groans and enjoys the way Phil grunts in return. But as fucking incredible as Phil's mouth is, Clint wants more. He tugs gently at Phil's hair.

"Up, please," he says. "Phil, baby, God, in general you can keep doing that forever, but get up, please." He's amazed he has the presence of mind to string that many words together, but he manages.

Phil opens his eyes and the dreamy expression turns concerned. He slides Clint's cock out of his mouth. "Something wrong?"

"It's fucking amazing," Clint pants, "but it's not what I want right now." He pulls Phil to his feet. "I want you to talk to me."

Phil smiles slowly. "I can do that."

"Bed," Clint says, and drags Phil through the apartment, holding his pants up with the other hand. He lets them drop as soon as they get into the bedroom and yanks Phil's belt off. The both of them are kicking off their shoes and undoing every button and zipper in frantic urgency. Phil's getting hard again, Clint notices with satisfaction. The couple of minutes it takes him to figure out how shoelaces work helps even more. Phil is naked by the time Clint finally gets the damn boot off, and fuck, does he look good.

"What do you want?" Phil asks in a throaty voice.

"Anything," Clint tells him. "Just talk to me."

Phil kisses him, stroking Clint's back as he pushes him toward the bed. Phil has such fucking capable hands, Clint thinks through his daze; hands like that could do anything. He runs his own hands all over Phil, everywhere he can touch, settling on Phil's ass because it just fits so damn well in the curve of his palms. They tumble onto the bed together, bodies twined together. Phil kisses like he's never going to let Clint go and Clint is more than fine with that. He kisses Phil right back, as hard as he can, greedy and needy and horny as hell. Phil just holds him, sliding those hands down Clint's arms and his thighs and up the back of Clint's neck. 

"Talk to me, boss," Clint begs between kisses.

"Turn over," Phil tells him, pushing at Clint's hip. Clint obeys and Phil spoons up hard behind him, his arm under Clint's ribs pinned firmly over Clint's chest. Clint shifts a little so that Phil's arm is more in his armpit - the last thing he wants is for Phil's hands to go numb in the middle of all of this, and Phil seems very happy to stroke Clint's chest. 

"Spread your legs a little," Phil murmurs in Clint's ear. He nuzzles at Clint's neck as Clint obeys. Phil's free hand smoothes Clint's thigh and then Phil reaches behind Clint and eases his cock into the space between Clint's thighs. He pulls Clint's leg gently back until it's a nice snug fit, and then he wraps his hand around Clint's cock. Clint groans.

"Fuck," he says.

"You like that," Phil tells him, his thumb sliding up and down Clint's cock. "I can tell by the way your pretty ass gets all tense. I like it too. I like the way your cock feels in my hand. I like it when you're tight all around me. I could fuck you all day."

"Please do," Clint gasps. Phil bites gently at his ear and starts to pump his hand around Clint's cock, but they both wince.

"Too dry," Phil says. 

"Right back," says Clint, carefully swinging his leg up and over before he crawls out of bed. The last thing he wants to do is injure Phil. He digs in the drawer of his dresser. 

"Every year, Nat gets me lube for my birthday on the theory that even if I'm not getting laid, I'll get lonely."

"Neither of those things are going to be a problem anymore," Phil says firmly. He holds out his hand and Clint drops the bottle into it and climbs back onto the bed. He kneels in front of Phil, waiting, and Phil gives him an approving wink. He squeezes some of the lube into his hand and slicks it over Clint's cock with slow deliberate strokes, so that Clint has to grab for the headboard or fall over entirely. He gasps for air, pleasure squeezing all the oxygen out of his lungs, and Phil releases him, tending to himself so that he's glistening and ready when Clint can breathe again.

"Back with me, Barton?" Phil asks.

Clint nods. "Yeah. Every inch of the way."

"Get your ass back down here, then," Phil tells him, and Clint is only too glad to comply. They arrange themselves carefully this time, mindful of pressure points. Clint wedges a pillow under his shoulder, propping himself up enough to make room for Phil's arm under him. He likes the way Phil clasps him against his body and he likes Phil's fingers exploring his chest. Once they actually get into this, he's damn sure not moving again.

"Better?" he asks, shifting slightly to accomodate Phil's elbow.

"Just fine," Phil says, kissing the back of Clint's neck. "Don't worry about me. Everything's fucking amazing back here." He eases Clint's thighs apart again and pushes between them and Clint grunts with pleasure. It's a lot better already: sweat only made his skin sticky before, but now Phil's cock slides easily in the space between Clint's thighs, rubbing against the sensitive skin and nudging against Clint's balls.

"Oh, yeah," Clint says as Phil takes him in hand again. 

"I never thought I'd be saying this," Phil murmurs, "but this is better than paperwork." He nips the back of Clint's neck. Clint laughs in little puffs of air. 

"Tell me what else this is better than," he says as Phil strokes him excruciatingly slowly. Clint wants more, but he's pretty sure that Phil's going to give it to him when Phil wants him to have it, and Clint will just have to live with it.

"Stakeouts," Phil says. "This is better than stakeouts. There are definitely some stakeouts we should have spent doing this instead. It's better than staff meetings. It's better than boot camp. It's better than Oktoberfest."

"That's pretty good," Clint says. It's already hard to form words. Phil's touch seems to disconnect something in his body: he can't breathe, he can't think, and he's happy about all of it. The pressure of Phil's skin against his is just enough to balance out the pressure of all the plreasure building inside of him. He'll hold together as long as Phil keeps holding him.

"It's fucking amazing," Phil corrects, hooking his foot over Clint's shins to pull Clint even closer. "We should have started this a long time ago."

"We can make up for it," Clint says. 

"You're damn right," Phil growls. "Jesus, Clint." 

Clint shivers at the sound of his name. He rocks his hips carefully against Phil's hand. 

"Stay still," Phil commands. "I'll take care of you, but I can't do this" - he thrusts into the space between Clint's thighs and simultaneously tightens his hand around the base of Clint's cock - "if you move." Clint whimpers and holds himself steady. 

"Better," Phil tells him, and thrusts again. He sinks his teeth into Clint's shoulder and it's a delicious struggle not to move, because every time Phil touches him, Clint's nerves spark and jump. 

"Talk to me," Clint says desperately, reaching back to stroke the small of Phil's back. "I want to hear you."

"You're always going to hear me," Phil tells him. "You'll hear me when you're walking down the street. You'll hear me in your sleep. And you'll get hard when you do, I can promise you that. Every goddamn mission from now on, you'll hear me and you'll have to work goddamn overtime to think about what you're supposed to be doing instead of what I'm going to do to you when you get back to headquarters."

"Nngh," Clint says, hypnotized by the aroused rasp of Phil's voice and the sweet rhythm of Phil's hand and Phil's hips. The heat and girth of Phil's cock between his legs is incredible, and Phil knows just how firmly to grasp Clint's cock as he pumps his fist. Clint loves the iron grip Phil has on him: he's caught between the solid bulk of Phil's body and the strength of Phil's hold, and it's amazing. He's not sure he's ever felt safer or more thoroughly desired. 

"Believe me when I say we're going to make up for lost time," Phil says. "The next full weekend we have off, Barton, we are getting the hell out of this city and turning off our phones. The world can survive without us for a couple of days. We're going to rent a fucking sports car, and we're going to rent a cabin, and we are going to spend the whole goddamn weekend in bed."

"Sounds good," Clint pants. It's a struggle not to thrust: Phil's hand feels so fucking good. But Phil's cock also feels good, so incredibly good, and it's a massive turn-on to hear the way Phil's voice is getting shaky and to feel the way that Phil is trembling with longing against Clint's body. Clint wraps his hand around Phil's, slowing Phil down just a little bit, making it last. Phil groans approvingly and Clint can't help groaning too.

"The first thing I'm going to do when we get there is blow you until you can't see straight," Phil says, his tone conversational but his voice low and hoarse. "I can't fucking wait to get your cock back in my mouth, Barton. I don't know if I've happened to mention, but I love your cock. I want it deep down my throat. I want to make your eyes roll back in your head and your toes curl. I want you to shout my name as you come. I want to swallow every bit of you, and then I want to do it again."

"Oh, fuck, Phil," Clint says involuntarily. His body is shaking against Phil's, but Phil only holds him tighter, thrusting faster and pumping his fist around Clint's cock. 

"Exactly," Phil murmurs. "It's going to be so fucking good when we get to penetration and I get to feel you inside me. God, I love you inside me, anywhere." He nuzzles at Clint's ear again. "But we have time. We have all the fucking time we need. Have I mentioned I love your thighs? In addition to your arms, I mean. They're fucking perfect. I could stay between them for the rest of my life."

"Oh, God," Clint says. He can't even focus on the words Phil's saying anymore, but the sound of Phil's voice is enough. He's hot liquid all through; his bones have melted in the heat of Phil's grasp and their shared desire. His balls are tingling and little shocks of pleasure go through him every time Phil's cock nudges up against them and he's half an inch from coming.

"Let go," Phil orders him. "Come on, Clint." His voice caresses Clint's name the same way his hand caresses Clint's cock. "I want to feel you come."

"Oh, fuck, _Phil_ ," Clint gasps, his head jerking forward. Phil's arm tightens around him, holding him close as Clint's body shakes. Phil makes a rough, breathless noise of utter wanting and thrusts hard against Clint. Clint presses himself backward as best as he can with his muscles still jerking. He turns his head to find Phil's mouth and Phil kisses him like the world is ending. His fingers are still wrapped around Clint's cock, but Clint likes it that way. He kisses Phil roughly and reaches back to grab Phil's ass, encouraging Phil. Phil thrusts faster and his tongue shoves against Clint's and goddamn, it's so fucking good. Little aftershocks shudder through Clint's body - he's really sensitive now, and Phil's hand still on his cock is almost too much, but there's no goddamn way he's going to tell Phil to stop. He likes pushing his body to the edge of what it can stand and he fucking loves the desperation in Phil's movements and Phil's kisses now. 

"You got anything left, boss?" he challenges and Phil growls and thrusts even faster. Clint tenses his thighs, just to make things interesting, and Phil groans and sinks his teeth into Clint's shoulder. Clint digs his fingers into Phil's ass in retaliation and that seems to be the right move, because Phil makes a strangled, ecstatic noise and comes. Clint holds him as best as he can, though his muscles are shaking with exhaustion and satiation, but there's no way he's going to let go of Phil. Finally, Phil collapses against him and they both relax their grips.

"Ahhhh," Clint says as Phil uncurls his fingers and the cold air of the apartment hits the oversensitive skin of his cock. It's almost a feeling of loss when Phil slowly pulls out from between Clint's thighs, but at least he can let his muscles relax. Oh, he's going to be sore later.

"Mmmm," Phil agrees, rolling onto his back and carefully extricating his arm from under Clint's armpit. He scrubs his hand over his face and then pulls Clint over on top of him, so that Clint is half-lying on Phil's chest. He strokes Clint's arms. "I have to say that's probably the best lunch break I've ever taken."

"Probably?" Clint tries to demand, but his voice comes out sleepy.

"I like to leave room for future lunch breaks," Phil explains.

"You know I love a challenge," Clint says.

"I do," Phil reassures him.

"You don't get lunch now," Clint says, his thoughts fuzzy and half-formed. "You can have my beefy macaroni."

"I think I deserve a long lunch for once in my life," Phil says, kissing him. "After that, I need a nap. Then I'll eat your macaroni and possibly use your shower. I don't think I can go to my afternoon meeting like this."

"I would give you spaghetti and meatballs if I had it," Clint says drowsily, his head sliding off Phil's shoulder and onto the pillow. He yawns. "Even if it was my last can."

"I know you would," Phil says affectionately. 

"Let's just order Chinese for dinner," Clint says. "Your place. I like it better. Though it's okay here if you're here."

"I'm not going anywhere," Phil reassures him. "That's a plan."

"I know how you like plans," Clint says into the pillow.

"I do," Phil says, and the last thing Clint remembers is Phil pulling the covers over both of them and fitting his body to Clint's. He smiles as he falls asleep.


End file.
